game over
by dezel
Summary: All America wants to do is play his game, but Russia has other ideas in mind.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't play FPS games or war games, so this will more than likely be inaccurate. this will most likely be the placeholder for future rusame smut._

–

The sounds of explosions emit from the speakers, and America leans forward a little bit, fingers hitting against the buttons on the small black controller as Russia sits next to him, a look of disgust on his face.

"How can you stand games like these?"

"Catharsis." Comes the offhand answer, on hand quickly covering the mic connecting to the headphones he's wearing. "Oh _god damn it_." Russia hears cackling from the headphones.

"This is boring."

"You wanna join?"

The Russian clicks his tongue and eyes the American for a brief moment. " _Nyet_ , I am not interested."

America shrugs. "If you say so, dude." Russia is only staying the night because America's boss suggested that they should learn to get along, somehow. For awhile, they had been doing their own thing, America playing with the neighbor's kids or paperwork, while Russia unpacked, or read. They had mostly just ignored each other for the time being, until dinner came around and America made something for the both of them.

Surprisingly, America is a decent cook and even more surprising, doesn't live off of fast food. And now, an hour after dinner, the American is playing a game online with a group of people and Russia had decided to see what it was about. He's less than impressed, but America is engrossed in it and Russia has nothing better to do.

The television screen goes red and he watches America's avatar get blown back and as the screen fades, another player run by. America curses once again, and Russia eyes the American out of the corner of his eye, an idea forming in his head.

They're certainly not close, but they don't hate each other as much as they used to. He wonders how well America can remain focused on his game with Russia purposefully distracting him.

This wouldn't be the first time they've done this.

America at first doesn't notice, brows knit together and a frown on his face, the utter concentration is surprising. So, Russia plans his palm on America's leg and gets no response. He slowly makes his way up to his thigh, and finally, he receives a little glance from the other.

"Dude, you're distracting me."

Russia only gives him an innocent smile and curls his fingers into America's clothed thighs. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

America rolls those pretty blue eyes of his. "Whatever." As he returns his attention back to the game, Russia leans in a little too close for the American's comfort, whom shifts a bit away, eyes still glued to the screen before him. "Nah, someone who is staying over is just bein' annoying."

Russia slides his hand up higher and presses his lips against America's jawline. "Let's see if you can focus while I do this, yeah? Make it even more interesting?" He nips at the flesh, and suckles softly as as his fingers nimbly unzips and unbuttons America's jeans. America stifles a groan, but doesn't jerk away.

The Russian is disappointed to find that America is only half erect, and trails wet, noisy kisses along his jawline and downwards, towards his neck, purposefully nudging the hands that hold the controller. He hears America swallow, and try to utter out something to the people he's playing with. Now, Russia trails feather light kisses along the side of America's neck, stopping to nibble ever so lightly at his pulse point. Gingerly, he trails the tips of his fingers along America's cock, feeling it harden as he continues his ministrations.

America desperately tries to ignore Russia, biting his lower lip to keep a moan from coming out as Russia wraps his fingers around his penis and slowly pumps, rubbing the pad of this thumb over his head. Weakly, he tries to nudge Russia away with his elbow, but it's ignored.

There's cursing on the other end as America dies on the screen.

"D-damn it, Ivan, I'm trying to win a game here!"

"Then keep playing." Russia tugs at America's shirt, stretching it out at the shoulders so he can keep nipping and kissing at skin. "I'm not stopping you."

"Yesss, you are." America draws in a deep breath and squeezes his eyes closed for a brief moment, and rips off his headset, tossing it aside. He can't focus with too many things going on, and he's not _that_ much of an exhibitionist to let anyone know what's happening. Russia lets out a little hum at that, and gets off the couch. Russia gets up for a moment, stretching out and America stares up at him, face flushed and scowling.

"You don't look happy."

"My team is losing because of you."

"What a pity." Russia doesn't sound sorry for him at all, and America is tempted to punch him square in the face but he doesn't want to be scolded by his boss tomorrow if the Russian shows up with a black eye. America licks his lips, momentarily forgetting the game before reverting his attention back to it when an explosion emits from the screen and he starts swearing.

"They're going to boot me, I swear."

"Mhm," Russia kneels down in front of America, forcible pushing his legs apart. "That'll be a shame."

"You don't sound like you care."

"I do." Russia grips the base of America's cock, pumping slowly as he does so and looks up at America. "For a military based country, you certainly are terrible at this game."

" _Because_ _you're distracting me._ " America nearly yells, and bites back a gasp as Russia licks the underside of his cock, along the vein and over the slit. " _Damn it, Russia._ "

"Get back to playing your game since it's important to you."

America licks his lips, fighting to even out his breathing as he squints at the television as Russia takes him into his mouth. He starts with the tip first, running his tongue over the tip, tasting the pre-cum and softly sucking and he hears America quietly swear as he misses his shot. Russia lets out a chuckle and pulls him out of his mouth with a wet _pop_ noise. The American had stopped pounding at the buttons, and stopped messing with the controller altogether.

They're at the default stats screen.

" _We lost_ ," America whines.

"Hmm, that sucks."

"This is your fault,"

Russia licks his lips. "That's all you care about?" He hums, as he strokes America's erection. America's face flares red. "You should play another round."

"Offline," America grunts.

"If you must." Russia has to admit that America is doing a pretty good job at (mostly) ignoring him, though it's obvious that he just wants to forsake the game. That means throwing away his pride, or at least, what's left of it. He wraps his lips over the head of America's cock again when America starts a new game, and starts to noisily suck now, taking in more of the other, and pushes him to the back of his throat and swallows.

Now, America lets out a moan, hips bucking. Russia chokes a little at that, and slowly pulls off, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. From the screen, he can hear garbled German and the sounds of guns going off but America isn't playing the game now.

So, Russia stops, pulling off and frowning up at America. "I thought you wanted to play your game?" Slack jawed, red-faced, glasses now askew because he had been covering his face with one hand as the other lay limp on the couch, gripping the controller.

"I _can't_ ,"

"Then I'll stop."

America's eyes widen. "You bastard."

Russia smirks a little as he stands up. "I'd _hate_ to interrupt it."

"Fuck you," His erection twitches, and aches and America reaches down to touch himself, but Russia smacks his hand away with a frown. " _Fine_ , I'll get back to playing."

Russia lets out a soft chuckle at that and kneels back down. He listens to the clicks of the buttons, and goes back to slowly blowing America, pushing him to the back of his throat and drawing back. He roughly rubs whatever he doesn't take in, and pulls off for a moment. Russia peers up at America through his eyelashes and for a brief moment, their eyes meet but America quickly breaks it, obviously flustered and embarrassed.

Once again, Russia rubs the tip of America's cock, gripping tightly and pumping slowly. America lurches forward at that, but continues to grip the controller and his game, obviously losing and quickly dying.

 _Focus, aim, shoot. Ignore the bastard._ America tries to tell himself this over and over again, but fails as he lets out a moan, bucking his hips forward, pausing for a moment when Russia deep-throats him and swallows, letting out a moan that sends vibrations up his cock and to his balls. _Focus. Focus._ Without thinking, America lets one hand go of the controller and grabs onto the back of Russia's head and pushes down, tugging at the locks as he does so.

He looks down again, feeling Russia continue to suck and noisily so, feeling the tongue rub at the skin.

"H-hey, R-Russia-" he groans out, freeing his head, and feels him pull off again. " _Don't-_ "

"Do you want to cum?"

America's ears burn red as Russia calmly asks him that, watching him lick the pre-cum off his lips. He draws in a few deep breaths, trying to calm his rapid beating heart. "Y- _yeah_."

Russia plants a few kisses along his cock, and gives it one more long lick. He presses a chaste kiss to the tip, and takes him all the way in and a hand reaches up to his clothed balls and squeezes as he sucks hard, hallowing his cheeks as he does.

With on more bob and letting out a groan around America's cock, America cums in spurts, the hand returning to his head, controller thrown aside somewhere as he thrusts his hips and upper half of his body slumps forward.

Russia continues to suck after his initial orgasm, taking as much as possible and finally pulls off, a trail of cum and saliva following. He grabs a fist full of blond hair, forcing him to look up at him, a cruel grin crossing his face.

"You lost," The fear in America's eyes is absolutely wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

_Tbh, I've always wanted to write closet sex._

–

Russia's lips are dry as they always are, but it's a good texture and America can't deny that he enjoys it. He grunts into the kiss when Russia's cold hands slide underneath his shirt, and fingers pinch at his nipples. As Russia runs his fingers along his chest and stomach, America reaches down and rubs at Russia's penis through his pants and feels him harden as he does so. Russia trails wet kisses along America's cheek, and downwards towards his neck, where he pauses and bites down. America grunts at the pain, but doesn't otherwise complain.

The sound of the zipper being undone catches Russia's attention, and he groans, leaning forward as America pulls his cock out and semi-tightly wraps his hand around the base of his cock and gives a slow pump, earning a loud gasp from the other.

America continues to slow jerk Russia off, the duo making eye contact the entire time he does so, and swipes the pad of his thumb over the head of Russia's cock, smearing pre-cum along the length. Russia forcible yanks America's pants down and America releases Russia's erection from his grasp after he does so. Russia kneels down, and runs his fingers along the underside of America's penis, almost too gently. He trails wet kisses along the length, tongue darting out to lick at the salty skin every so often before finally pressing a kiss to the head. He draws in a deep breath, and takes in his entire cock, pushing it as far back into his throat as he could, and gives a hard suck. America bucks his hips, entangling his fingers into Russia's hair and tugs.

Russia bobs his head up and down, tongue licking along the hard, hot skin as he sucks and one hand fondles America's balls. As he gives another hard suck, Russia squeezes his balls a bit too hard and America lets out a loud moan and automatically thrusts forward and Russia chokes a bit at the sudden intrusion. One hand reaches up and pushes America's hips back, and he pulls off, a trail of saliva and pru-cum following.

He stands back up, a brief wave of dizziness overtaking him. The confined space of the closet is starting to smell a lot less like cleaner and more like sex and sweat, it's almost arousing.

"Turn around,"

America does so, placing his hands on the walls as Russia spits into his hand and lathers up his cock the best he can, after all, spit doesn't make a very good lube. He angles America's hips more outwards and aims his cock at America's entrance, and slowly pushes in. There's a little groan of pain coming from the other, and Russia takes enjoyment in it. Once he's nestled in, Russia remains still for a moment, reveling in the heat and tightness of the other, feeling the muscles clench down around him. He runs his fingers along America's lower stomach and slowly draws out, before pushing back in.

As Russia starts to pick up his pace, America reaches down with one hand, while keeping the other planted on the wall and starts to stroke himself in time with Russia's thrusts. He's nearly thrown off balance when Russia starts to go faster, and has to remove his hand for a few moments and re-place it on the hall in order to balance himself again and not fall forward. He pushes back against Russia, re-angling his hips somewhat so Russia strikes against his prostate. Russia tugs lightly at America's hair, sending chills down the others spine.

They're both struggling to remain quiet, but in the end fail as America reaches back down and starts to quickly jerk himself off. He rubs the head of his cock hard, and strokes along the base and pumps, groans as Russia cums. There's a momentary pause as Russia pulls out, and America bites his lower lip as he joins him in jerking him off. It almost hurts, with how tight Russia is gripping him but it doesn't matter.

His moan is too loud as he cums in both their hands, and slumps back.

The clean up is silent, and they fix their clothes. When they stumble out of the closet, Canada is standing right there, with wide eyes and a half open mouth.


End file.
